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Quite a number of years ago, the Seattle Symphony was doing Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 under the baton of Milton Katims. Now at this point, you must understand two things:
1. There's a quite long segment in this symphony where the basses don't have a thing to do. Not a single note for page after page.
2. There used to be a tavern called Dez's 400, right across the street from the Seattle Opera House, rather favored by local musicians.

It had been decided that during this performance, once the bass players had played their parts in the opening of the symphony, they were to quietly lay down their instruments and leave the stage, rather than sit on thier stools looking and feeling dumb for twenty minutes.
Once they got backstage, someone suggested that they trot across the street and quaff a few brews. When they got there, a European nobleman recognized that they were musicians, and bought them several rounds of drinks. Two of the bassists passed out, and the more...

A Jewish businessman was in a great deal of trouble. His business was failing, he had put everything he had into the business, he owed everybody it was so bad he was even contemplating suicide. As a last resort he went to a Rabbi and poured out his story of tears and woe.

When he had finished, the Rabbi said, "Here's what I want you to do: Put a beach chair and your Bible in your car and drive down to the beach. Take the beach chair and the Bible to the water's edge, sit down in the beach chair, and put the Bible in your lap. Open the Bible; the wind will rifle the pages, but finally the open Bible will come to rest on a page. Look down at the page and read the first thing you see. That will be your answer, that will tell you what to do."

A year later the businessman went back to the Rabbi and brought his wife and children with him. The man was in a new custom-tailored suit, his wife in a mink coat, the children shining. The businessman pulled an more...

Dear Santa,
I rarely ask for much. This year is no exception. I don't need diamond earrings, handy slicer-dicers or comfy slippers. I only want one little thing, and I want it deeply. I want to slap Martha Stewart.
Now, hear me out, Santa. I won't scar her or draw blood or anything. Just one good smack, right across her smug little cheek. I get all cozy inside just thinking about it. Don't grant this wish just for me, do it for thousands of women across the country. Through sheer vicarious satisfaction, you'll be giving a gift to us all.
Those of us leading average, garden variety lives aren't concerned with gracious living. We feel pretty good about ourselves if our paper plates match when we stack them on the counter, buffet-style for dinner. We're tired of Martha showing us how to make centerpieces from hollyhock dipped in 18 carat gold. We're plumb out of liquid gold. Unless it's of the furniture polish variety. We can't whip up Martha's creamy holiday sauce, spiced more...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).
When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!!
I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.
When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then more...

A Scholar rented a room from a monastery to use for study. In fact, he played all around instead of studying. One afternoon, he suddenly came back and called the page boy to fetch him a book. At first, the page boy fetched the Liang Dynasty Wenxuan. He looked at the book and said," Too low." Then, he brought the scholar the classic History of the Han Dynasty, but the answer was still "Too low." Finally, he brought a third famous classic, the Records of the Historian, but the answer was still "Too low." A monk, very astonished by this, confronted the scholar," Generally, if a person masters one of these great books in a lifetime he is considered well-learned. Why do you say these classics are low books?" "I'm trying to find a book that's just the right height to use as a pillow," the scholar replied," these are all too low."

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net,
There were hackers a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.
The e-mails were stacked by the inbox with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens,
While visions of Java danced in their dreams.
My wife on the sofa and me with a snack,
We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).
When out in the Web there arose such a clatter,
I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.
To a new page my Mac flew like a flash,
Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash!
I gasped at the thought and started to grouse,
Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.
When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.
When the image resolved, so bright and so quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick!
More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came,
Then more...

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the Net, There were hacker's a surfing. Nerds? Yeah, you bet.The e-mails were stacked by the modem with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.The newbies were nestled all snug by their screens, While visions of Java danced in their dreams.My wife on the sofa and me with a snack, We just settled down at my rig (it's a Mac).When out in the Web there arose such a clatter, I jumped to the site to see what was the matter.To a new page my Mac flew like a flash, Then made a slight gurgle. It started to crash! I gasped at the thought and started to grouse, Then turned my head sideways and clicked on my mouse.When what to my wondering eyes should appear, My Mac jumped to a page that wasn't quite clear.When the image resolved, so bright and so quick, I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick! More rapid than mainframes, more graphics they came, Then Nick glanced toward my screen, my Mac called them by name;"Now Compaq! Now more...